


Settled Dust

by sweeterthankarma



Series: Pride Month Prompts 2020 [8]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Post-Season/Series 03, some humor dashed in because I'm tired of my favorite characters being so sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24613792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: It’s been three days since Waverly’s returned from the garden. She hasn’t stepped into her bedroom once. Neither Nicole or Wynonna ask why.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Series: Pride Month Prompts 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769956
Comments: 4
Kudos: 99





	Settled Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Pride Month and welcome to my first ever month-long fic challenge! For thirty days, I'll be writing and posting LGBTQ+ fics inspired by the prompts listed [here](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/517562182177703635/). These fics will be anywhere from 100-1,500 words, will be for different fandoms, ships and characters, and will all stand alone. Here goes nothing!
> 
> By the way, this is my 50th Wynonna Earp fic! Woo!
> 
> Day 8 Prompt: Dusty.

It’s been three days since Waverly’s returned from the garden. She hasn’t stepped into her bedroom once. Neither Nicole or Wynonna ask why.

She sleeps in Wynonna’s bed with Nicole snug and warm by her side, holding onto her tightly and not daring to let go. She wakes up with sweaty palms, curled so relentlessly around Nicole’s forearms that they both wake with red lines traced into their skin. Neither of them mind. 

Wynonna is solemnly relieved, so much so that she doesn’t make any remarks about having to bleach her bed after her sister inevitably has sex in it. At least, she doesn’t say it loudly, and it only takes a subtle nudge from Nicole for her to keep quiet from then on. 

Wynonna and Nicole do anything and everything Waverly needs. They answer all her questions— no, they didn’t file a missing person’s report because everyone who needed to know where she was already knew; yes, they told the occasional townsperson who asked about her whereabouts that she had gone to California for an unforeseeable amount of time; yes, Nicole then said that they were still together despite the distance and agreed that long distance relationships were hard, and yes, she’d then escape from the conversation with tears in her eyes and go weep in the bathroom stall in Shorty’s, the third one in, the one that they’d always made out in on the rare nights that they could relax and spend a normal night out together. 

They fill her in on things that have changed in the world: Nicole is convinced Jojo Siwa is a lesbian thanks to a viral TikTok video (and she then has to explain what TikTok videos are and what else has gone viral, because they all know Jeremy’s going to reference the memes at some point or another), Wynonna wishes she had named Alice something as hilarious and eccentric as Elon Musk named his child, and they both agree that 2020 has by far been the worst year of their life, for reasons more elaborate than just her disappearance, but nothing as excruciating or sorrowful. 

They buy her three pints of her favorite expensive vegan ice cream, the kind that both of them think tastes like glue and cardboard but it doesn’t matter because it’s for Waverly. Everything is for Waverly right now.

So when Wynonna goes out to buy three more cartons (clearly there was no dessert in the garden) and Waverly asks Nicole, voice hushed and a little shaky, if they can go into her bedroom, Nicole leads her upstairs.

They walk slow up the steps, Waverly’s feet socked and Nicole’s bare. The door creaks open as Waverly’s hand lingers on the doorknob. Her fingernails are bitten raw, unpainted, and her knuckles are stained blue and grey, bruised and cracked. Nicole makes a mental note to offer her a manicure later and text Wynonna about picking up some lotion, pomegranate scented, Waverly’s favorite. (The irony of it being the original forbidden fruit damning Eve away from the Garden of Eden aren’t lost on Nicole.)

Waverly reaches for Nicole’s hand, takes it and holds it tight against her chest as they cross the threshold inside her room. Both their throats catch at the same moment. 

Nothing’s changed from how Waverly left it. Her blankets are folded over at the head of her bed, not entirely symmetrical and just a little mussed, representing the haste of the last day she got up. The day she disappeared. The day they were all convinced the world was ending. The day it kind of did.

“No one ever came in?” Waverly asks. “Not even you?”

“How could I?” Nicole answers. She doesn’t mean to be so sad, so vulnerable, but she is and she’s never been the type to hide her feelings from the ones she loves. Certainly not from Waverly.

The light bulb takes a long time to flicker on. Waverly’s other hand lingers on the switch as she waits, and then she trails it across her dresser, catching dust on her fingertips. Her favorite necklace, silver antlers on a medium length chain, sits unclasped near the edge, as if waiting to be worn. 

“Nothing’s changed,” Waverly says, so quiet Nicole almost doesn’t hear her. “Nothing’s changed, yet everything’s changed.”

Waverly picks up a different necklace, one that Nicole had given her on their nine month anniversary, and lint flies off from the chain, falling slowly to the floor. They both watch it blend into the tan carpet until it's nearly invisible and Waverly turns her nose up at it, knowing she’ll be sneezing and sniffling later thanks to her sensitive allergies. Still, she sweeps her hand across the expanse of the tabletop, cleaning off the month long buildup. At the window, dead bugs litter the sill, collecting grime and filth that lines the rickety screen behind the panes. Waverly used to be afraid of bugs. Not anymore. She’s found that there’s much worse things to be afraid of. 

“We’re going to have to do some deep cleaning, huh?” Nicole says after Waverly’s made her way around the room. She stands still, almost frozen, and wrings her hands. Her right one is still hot from Waverly’s firm grasp, and she feels it with her left, as if still trying to convince herself that this is real. Waverly’s back. She’s alive. She’s okay. 

There was a time when Nicole was almost certain that she wasn’t. She doesn’t want to think about that, but it’s hard not to. Even now as Waverly stands before her, tosses back the bedsheets and takes a seat on the mattress. _Especially_ now. 

Nicole sits beside her and holds her, lets her lean her entire weight into her lap. Little tears escape her eyes, gliding down her cheeks until they drop onto her pajama pants, onto their re-intertwined hands, and Nicole can’t help but cry a little herself too. It feels like all she’s done lately is cry, but it still feels like a good release, like something necessary. One step after another, slow and steady, starting over— no, starting again. 

“Can we do some redecorating?” Waverly finally asks. It’s the first thing she’s said in a long while, and when she looks up to meet Nicole’s gaze, her eyes are red and puffy but dry. “Not now, obviously, but later?”

Nicole squeezes her hand, kisses her hair, breathes her in.

“Absolutely. Whatever you want, whenever you want.”

Waverly knows that she means it, through and through, just as she knows that they’re going to be okay. It may take some time, but they’ve got plenty of that now. With it, the dust will settle and clear, and so will her mind, and so will everything else. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi and celebrate pride month with me on Tumblr [here.](https://sweeterthankarma.tumblr.com/)


End file.
